<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Ask Virgil by pinkie2054</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24183751">Ask Virgil</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkie2054/pseuds/pinkie2054'>pinkie2054</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sanders Sides (Web Series)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, BAMF Anxiety | Virgil Sanders, Conspiracy, Gossip, M/M, Slow Burn, idk how to tag this, if you think of any fitting tags lmk</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 23:42:01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>693</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24183751</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkie2054/pseuds/pinkie2054</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Virgil Tempest is the elusive gossip god at Sanders High. He knows everything about everyone and can get you information on anything from the latest drama to answer keys for upcoming tests… for a price. But what happens when someone comes to him with a question he doesn’t know the answer to? It opens a world of supernatural conspiracy and romance where you don’t know who you can trust. Follow them on their journey of mystery, friendship, and twists at every turn.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Anxiety | Virgil Sanders &amp; Dark Creativity | Remus "The Duke" Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders &amp; Deceit Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders &amp; Sleep | Remy Sanders, Anxiety | Virgil Sanders/Logic | Logan Sanders</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>63</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Ask Virgil</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Thanks so much to katrilop for helping out with the planning and brainstorming process! I couldn’t have done this without her!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>Virgil’s POV</b>
</p><p>I unlocked the librarians office, stepping inside and looking around the small space. Mr. Picani - or Emile, as he insists I call him - lets me use the space for my business, seeing as he takes his breaks reading in the library instead of in the office. I leave the door cracked open behind me, signaling to my clients that I am open to business. Settling in the chair behind a small desk, I hear the door squeak as someone walks into my office. </p><p>“H-hey, Virgil,” the person greets awkwardly. I fix them with my scrutinizing gaze before recognizing the student. Nate, a sophomore who tends to slack off on schoolwork and is a forgetful scholar. I can’t count the amount of times Emile has complained to me about him while we were organizing the shelves. </p><p>“Nate,” I acknowledge. His eyes widen minutely, somewhat surprised that I know who he is. Is he really that surprised? I raise an eyebrow at him. “What brings you to my office?” </p><p>“Um, I heard you were the one I could go to for answer keys? I forgot to study for the English test tomorrow.”</p><p>I hum. “I’m not surprised.” Nate splutters.</p><p>“What is that supposed to mean?” I stare him down, daring him to continue.</p><p>“Would you like to pay extra for me to answer that question?” Nate shakes his head, backing down. “That’s what I thought. Now, back to business.” I turned to face the file cabinets to my right, unlocking and opening the one I know to contain answer keys. “Ms. Torres, right?” I query. He nods. I hum my acknowledgment as I look under ‘T’. It takes a few moments, but I find one of my copies for the answer key for tomorrow’s test. </p><p>I pull it out of the drawer, closing said drawer and locking it. “The price for answer keys, hall passes, and report cards is 10 dollars. I assume you have the funds?”</p><p>I watch as Nate pulls out his wallet, handing me two five dollar bills. I hand him the answer key. “Pleasure doing business with you.”</p><p>“Y-you too,” he stutters, seeing himself out of my office. I slip the money into a box under my desk.</p><p>Not long after Nate left, Roman Kingsley struts into the room. “Virgil!” He exclaims, unparalleled confidence in his stride. </p><p>“Roman,” I nod at one of my regulars. The man couldn’t get enough of the gossip at this school. I admired the drama nerd. He was one of the few students at this school who wasn’t remotely intimidated by me.</p><p>“I need information,” he told me, not bothering to take a seat.</p><p>I rolled my eyes at the eccentric senior. “No shit. What information?” </p><p>“What’s the deal with Patton and Toby? Are they together?” I leaned back in my chair, smirking. </p><p>“And why do you want to know?” I asked. Roman blushes furiously. </p><p>“Not important.” He insisted. I gave him a look, but nodded and conceded.</p><p>“You know the price,” I said. He nodded and passed me 5 dollars. I sighed.</p><p>“Nothings going on between them. Toby was helping Patton with math, and someone saw them and misinterpreted.” Roman let out a breath, relieved.</p><p>“Thanks, Virge.” I narrowed my eyes at the nickname, but didn’t comment. “I can always count on you. Bye!” I sent him a two-fingered salute. </p><p>“You got it, Roman.”</p><p>Nearly two hours later, my last client left the office. I took out the box of money and began counting, when I heard the door open. “We’re closed,” I commented, not looking up from my counting.</p><p>“Bitch, I <i>know</i> you did not just tell me that.” I paused my calculating and looked up to see one of my best friends standing there, hand on his hip.</p><p>“Remy!” A smile graced my face. It was nice to see a friend after a long day.</p><p>“Gurl, I have <i>so</i> much tea for you,” he informed me, dramatically dropping into the chair across the desk from me. I spent the next thirty minutes listening to the information Remy had gathered for me, a small grin stuck on my face the whole time.</p>
  </div></div>
</body>
</html>